


A Prince with no Princess

by WriterTrash56



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fanfiction, Gay, M/M, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-01 15:19:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterTrash56/pseuds/WriterTrash56
Summary: The castle is a cage. A gilded cage of perfection and predetermined marriage. In a desperate effort to reclaim some freedom, Lance sneaks out into a world, and realizes that not everything is as it seems, including his own life and love.





	1. Chapter 1

Here again in a long, boring Council meeting. Why was Lance even here? He wasn’t the one about to be ruling the country in a few years anyway, and he just wanted to be outside again. Long sheets of rain pelted the crystal windows from the storm in a dull roar, partially drowning out the Chancellor’s speech at the head of the table. Lance caught snatches about relocating troops and Balmeran crystal quintessence production. Someone else, Allura, maybe, kept asking questions about the pace of the production of a new fleet of ships. There were some smattering of answers.

  
These things dragged on forever. Each participant of the Council tried their very hardest to appease the Royal Family, each one trying to outdo the other for favor. They were all power hungry pigs. Lance really had no say in these things anyway. The second born child was just kinda there. He was here mostly for appearances. At some point a servant came by to give everyone a cup of Nunvil. Lance took his cup and thanked the servant, though he wasn’t going to drink it. He hated Nunvil despite everyone saying he should love it. It may be the nectar of the gods, but in Lance’s point of view, they could keep it.

  
Lance looked everywhere but the table. A huge crystal chandelier hung above them, casting a warm sort of light over the room in a dazzling display of reflected beams. The ceiling was painted with frescoes of the gods in their awe inspiring beauty. Vadus, god of archery and lightning, shot his lightning bow over the sky of Lady Allonis, the Mother of the Sky. The Three Gods of Love smiled down from the clouds, all wearing purple, the color of love, decorated with the bracelets of marriage. Marriage. Lance wouldn’t think about marriage right now.

  
The walls were decorated with portraits of dead Council members. Belles. Cyonos. Adelia. Ryma. Many more names, many more portraits. Each was shrouded with a sheer pink curtain as a sign of respect to those lost. Pink was the color of the dead.

  
His mother wore pink. Most wondered if Queen Fala was well when they saw her coloring. But Lance knew the real reason why she donned the color of the dead every day, and he had sworn not to tell anyone. Not even his sister.

  
But these surroundings, however, were not enough to keep him from hearing the words that snapped him back to reality.

  
“How fares Crown Prince Lance’s marriage alliance?” Councilman Tarin asked. Lance felt a sick sensation rear up in his chest that spread to the rest of his body.

  
“It is going smoothly,” Councilwoman Mast responded. She turned to look at the prince, locking his blue eyes with her vivid green. She was his favorite Council member by far but he hated that she was the one holding the key to his freedom. Just one click and he would be chained down.

  
“I am pleased to announce that the Kingdom of Thalmor has accepted our marriage offer. It is noted that Thalmor holds considerable strength in its walls and has defeated the Galra invaders off of its territory. It will be a valuable ally in the war.” Mast announced smoothly. Not one hint of emotion crossed her face. “Their princess will be coming to stay the customary two months with us in five weeks. We will have every luxury available to her for this visit. They will be married at the Starlight festival for the whole kingdom to watch.”

  
Lance tried to catch Allura’s eye, giving a glaringly obvious eye roll. Allura gave him a dirty look. They couldn’t let the council members know about how much Lance hated this idea. Hated how little control Lance had over his own life.

  
Instead Lance had to smile. Pretend everything was fine. Pretend that a marriage he didn’t want was the best thing in the history of ever.

  
“Crown Prince, do you find your marriage agreeable?”

  
This was what he had to look forward to now. A Starlight festival ending with chains to another person.

  
Forever.

  
Lance let himself betray no outward emotion. “Of course, Councilwoman Mast.” Poisonous words. “I accept.”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
Lance flopped down on his bed, sulking. This was the side that no one got to see, and he reveled in the fact that there was no cameras in his room. The last thing he needed was someone watching his sleep. A few times he had heard of an Altean hacking into the castle mainframe and watching the family do everything. Eating. Dancing. What creeped him out was the fact that whoever that Altean was had been watching him and his sister uninhibited.

  
His rooms were large and spacious. The walls were painted ocean blue with patterns of birds and stars. Adorning the ceiling were string lights of soft blue Balmeran crystals carved in the shapes of stars and planets, glowing blue with quintessence. His bed frame was made of petrified wood run through with bands of blue and fire opal, reflecting the light of the glowing planets. Burning in the corner was a stick of jasmine incense most likely put there by the servants. In the corner was a overflowing wardrobe filled with clothes he had found at the Gold Sage marketplace. A jewelry box held glittering necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. Large bay windows gave him the view of the Garden, all green and flush with cultivated life.

  
It was in here Lance could do whatever he wanted without judgement, without shame, and without any regard to anyone. And right now, he felt miserable.

  
Marriage. What an ugly word. Sure, this princess might be beautiful and charming and maybe he’ll grow to like her enough to continue the bloodline of kings, but it wasn’t on his terms. It wasn’t his choice. He was the backup sibling that only took over if Allura were to spontaneously combust. He wasn’t groomed to rule anything. He was the pretty face to give speeches to the crowds, kiss babies, and die without truly living.

  
He buried his head into an embroidered pillow at that depressing thought. He loved his sister, loved his life, but hated the rules and expectations weighing on him at every move. Crown Prince, lift up your chin. You must always look confident. You cannot wave at the crowds.You must never run. Always walk. Never laugh. Never cry. Never do anything.

  
Hell, he had never been outside of the Royal Walls. He knew very well that in his city of Ismiria there were three rings where people lived, and farms stretching far outside the walls to supply the city and some parts of Altea with food. He didn't even know what an ocean looked like.

  
He also knew that with each outlying ring, the wealth of the people grew smaller. The Outer Ring was where most of the poor and destitute lived and worked in the factories. It was also where he was most likely to find taverns, brothels, and dingy little shops and places.

  
It was the furthest place a Crown Prince should even consider being. But it was an appealing thought. If he could just sneak out for one night, he could get away, see his city. Maybe he’ll ride one of the air trains. The idea of the air train filled him with excitement. With the promise of freedom.

  
It was incredibly stupid. Which was why he wasn't going to do it. Wasn't going to consider it. What would his father say?  
Besides. He couldn't get out of the palace without a guard. Believe him, he tried many times. He couldn't just waltz outside doing the jig without someone seeing him. Not without a disguise.

  
This was so, so stupid.  
\----------------------------  
Lance found himself in the chamber of the Alchemists a half hour later. This was where all the magic happened, quite literally too. Everything important lived and breathed in this room of great scientific potential. At least, that's what Pidge said.

  
And it was Pidge he was looking for. He had a half formed plan in his head for an escape, but without Pidge’s help he’d be screwed over.

  
It was always hard to find anything in this room. It was huge, almost cavernous in its sheer size. The walls were grey and bare, as the inner mechanism of alchemy was all the room needed. Row after row of tables filled the room to packing point, and nearly every single one of them held an alchemist and some project.

  
Some experiments looked super cool, in Lance’s opinion. One scientist seemed to be working on some pod thing, that would seal up automatically when something was in it. Another one was holding a struggling fish that seemed to be able to speak. There were many more, many more sounds and smells and grinding machinery.

  
He found her hunched over a computer screen, furiously typing at some laptop looking thing. Her short brown hair was spiky at the ends, and she wore a green dress that Lance knew she hated. Her glasses were perched at the bridge of her nose, slipping down with sweat. Her Altean marks were green and slid almost all the way down her cheeks.

  
“Hey Pidge,” Lance said, wiggling his fingers in her face. “I have a science question. If I adjust the hyperspatial flow of the astroflux quantum polarity-"

  
“Just because you're using science words you've heard doesn't mean it's science, Lance. What do you need?” Pidge responded, shaking her head at his words. She sat back in her chair and eyed him, annoyed.

  
Lance sucked in a breath and looked around to see if anyone was watching him. He caught the eye of a pink haired alchemist watching him and gave her a death glare. She dutifully looked away.

  
“Well, I need your help. A bit. It's going to sound really really dumb and you can say no if you want and-" Pidge cut him off again. She was the only person in this whole castle that was brave enough to do it. She didn't care about his status. Lance respected that.  
“What do you need me to do?” She asked, sounding resigned.

  
Lance picked at the fabric of his pants for a second. “I need you to help me sneak out. Of the palace. Undetected.”

  
Pidge contemplated this for a second. She was silent for a long moment. Lance waited breathlessly.

  
“Bribery.” She said at last.

  
“What?”

  
“Bribery. I'll help you do it, but if we get caught, we're gonna have to say that you bribed me into it so that I won't face prosecution. You're a prince, so they won't do anything to you. So you need to bribe me with something.”

  
“Money?” Lance offered.

  
“No, that's too easy, and I'm better than that. We gotta make this believable, Lance.”

  
Pidge said. “Lemme pick the bribe.”

  
“Hm? Bribe? What are you two doing?” Crap, that was Allura behind him, wasn't it? Lance turned around quickly, standing in front of Pidge as if to shield the tiny alchemist.

  
Allura stood, arms crossed and looked pretty pissed. Her hair was up in her standard bun and she had taken off the dress in favor of the alchemist uniform. Ah. She was here today.

  
Lance tried to sound nonchalant. “I don't know what you're talking about.” He tried to lean on the desk and look cool but instead he slipped and nearly fell. He settled on just crossing his arms over his chest and tried to look cross.

  
In a quick motion Allura kicked under Lance’s feet and caught him by his ear. He shrieked in pain but she didn't let go.

  
“You're a horrible liar. What bribe?”  
“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you, just let me go!” She released him with a smirk playing on her lips.  
Lance sighed. “I want to sneak out of the castle tonight, all right? Pidge said she’d help, so we were trying to figure out an excuse to get her out of trouble.”

  
“Don't involve me in this!” Pidge protested.  
“You were already involved, alchemist. Anyway, you'd never get out of the castle looking like that.” Allura pointed to Lance's outfit.

  
“Excuse me, Princess? My name is Pidge, not alchemist.” Pidge retorted. Allura ignored her.

  
“What's wrong with my outfit?” Lance asked.

  
There was actually quite a lot of things wrong with his outfit. He looked every inch the prince. He had on a tightly fitted blue tunic made of Ardinian silks, and a long, flowing cape that trailed delicately behind him. A simple gold circlet rested in his curly white hair, the mark of the Crown Prince and Princess. His ears were adorned with sapphire earrings, much too expensive looking for an average Altean.

  
“So what do I do then?” Lance asked. He rubbed his ear, a nervous tick of his.

  
“I can get you some normal clothes, and you’ll need to shape change, too. Turn your hair brown, go a little taller, or something. Change the color of your marks too, or get rid of them. Something. Make yourself look so utterly average no one is going to look twice.” Allura instructed. “I should get back to what I was doing, before they notice I've been gone too long.”

  
She turned to leave. Lance grabbed her arm to stop her for a moment. “Wait, why are you helping me? You just attacked me in front of my friend here!”

  
She shrugged. “I realize that that was probably in poor taste.”

  
“You think?”

  
“Anyway, I'm helping you because you're my brother, and also because you're young. You're stupid. And you won't be in that much trouble if you get caught. Now, seriously Lance, I need to go.” Allura tugged her arm away from him and walked away.

  
There was a long silence between the alchemist and the prince.

  
“So what's the plan, man?”  
\-------------


	2. Vrepit Sa, Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance sneaks out and realizes that the world outside the Royal Wall is not what they told him it was. The Galra are about to launch an imminent invasion on the Outer Wall. A friendly drink is not as friendly as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so y'all know, there is mention of date rape drugs in this chapter. No one gets raped, don't worry! But if that triggers any of you, this may not be the fic for you. Enjoy the fic!

Lance never knew that his home could seem so foreboding. Shadows danced on the walls, and in his mind he imagined monsters, watching from the sidelines and waiting to devour him. Any noise was a guard waiting to capture him. Each flicker of light was definitely a searchlight ready to pin him down. 

Well, he supposed he felt this way because he was out of bed when he wasn’t supposed to be really anywhere, and trying to make his way out of the castle to go to the Outer Ring. It was a new and exhilarating feeling, rebellion. He wondered why he hadn’t done it sooner. 

“Lance, there’s a guard coming around the corner! Evade!” Pidge hissed in his ear. She was on the sidelines, the guy in the chair, so to speak. With her chosen “bribe” of a new android assistant to carry her stuff and her next project being automatically greenlit by royal decree (which he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not), she was sitting pretty in the guard station office monitoring everything; security cameras, guard detail, and his location. He knew where everything was, but it was another story getting out at ten at night. 

Lance frantically searched the hallway he was in for anything to hide with. To his luck, there was a cabinet close by. Checking to see if there was anyone else close by, he dashed over to it. He had his last leg in it when he heard the whistling of the Altean guard, and he quickly pulled it in, sticking to the shadiest part of the cabinet and barely daring to breathe. He didn’t bother trying to close the door all the way, as that would cause attention. 

Ten agonizing seconds felt like ten thousand years to him. Gods, Lance thought, Please don’t let me get caught. It was very hot and stuffy in the cabinet. He was squished against linens and sheets, he was no doubt in the guest wing of the castle. Then the whistling faded away, and when Lance was sure he couldn’t hear any more of the tune, he let himself out slowly, startling at every noise. No one came. No security detail came and caught him. He was fine. 

“Okay. Okay. I’m alright.” Lance whispered to himself. The guest wing entrance wasn’t far. The guest wing was obviously where they kept their guests, but it held other things as well. Political officials. World leaders. The various bands that would perform in the city. (The royal family highly valued music, and felt any musicians should have the honor of staying in the castle if they chose.) And his betrothed. 

At the thought of his betrothed he got that sick feeling in his chest again, but he pushed it down. He didn’t even know her name. But she wasn’t the priority right now. Getting out was. 

“Any more guards coming my way?” Lance whispered into his communicator. 

“There’s one up ahead, but he isn’t anywhere near you. On his rounds you shouldn’t even cross paths.” Pidge said. 

“Cool, cool,” Lance said. He came up on a corner and pressed his back to the wall. He felt for second rather like one of those action heroes on those net dramas he liked to watch, all sneaky and serious and ready for adventure. Maybe there would be an enemy with a blaster on the other side of the corridor, ready to fight. He ultimately would win. He would have a blaster, no, he would have a graceful bow, to shoot with expert precision to leave his enemy to Arunel, god of death, to collect. The drama would end with sweeping music and a bow. 

“Your exit is like, two hundred feet away. Book it.” Pidge said in his ear. 

“No, Pidge! I gotta be careful about this.” Lance responded. 

“Since when have you been the responsible one? You came to me last week crying about going to archery practice. You know, the practice you’re supposed to have to, how did they put it, light the flame of passion for your marriage by firing a blazing arrow at a gas covered target?”

“That’s in the past, Pidge. And now I gotta be careful, because I’m sneaking out of my own castle in the dead of night.” 

“It’s nine pm. Practically afternoon.” Said Pidge sarcastically. 

“It’s dark. Dead of night. Don’t argue with the prince.” Lance retorted. 

“Who goes there?” A new voice, not in his ear giving sarcastic commentary. Cold flooded Lance from head to toe. “Come out of where you’re hiding!” Guard. Shit. 

“What’s going on? Who is that?” Pidge asked, but Lance didn’t respond. He had spent so long at the corner bickering that he had let the guard come way closer than he found comfortable. His mind scrambled up lies and excuses as to why he, the crown prince, was out at nine pm, in the guest wing, when at this time he really should be in his room watching net dramas and eating crystallized blueberry candy. What was he doing? Why was he doing this? Why did past him think this was a good idea?

“Come on! Or I’ll call security!” The guard called. His voice was sort of high pitched, kind of breathy. Not altogether intimidating, but enough for Lance to make the decision to step out of his corner and face the music. 

Lance expected the guard’s eyes to widen in recognition. Drop to his knees in reverence to a crown Lance didn’t care for at the specific moment. Take him back to his room. Lose his chance at freedom. The entrance was right there. If he could just run, he could possibly get out. But then he would be caught for sure, as a runaway prince is opt to be.   
But the guard just nodded instead. “Oh, just one of you lot. I swear, you creep about like spiders. Carry on then.” He turned around and walked away, starting to whistle a bit. 

Lance had completely forgotten that he had disguised himself. He almost smacked himself upside the forehead in his own forgetfulness. 

“Are you actually going to respond to me now? Were you caught?” Pidge asked. Lance could imagine her face, equal parts exasperated and worried. 

“No, no. Thank the gods for the idea to have a disguise.” Lance said. He ran a hand through his hair. 

He had originally thought shapeshifting would be a stupid idea. It was a power that came easily, but he didn’t like to use it much. The court did, though. The kept their same faces to extent, but they all tried to look younger, stronger, more sharp around the edges. Lance used to have nightmares as a child of monsters that changed their faces to old withered crones and terrifying, contorted beings. His mother would sing to him and tell him stories of her life before being queen of Altea, before even being a princess. 

His rationale was that if he snuck around enough, no guard would catch him. 

“I could be like a ninja! A cool sneaky ninja man, silent and deadly!” He had pulled his cape up to his nose, making himself look like one of those stereotypical villains from the dramas. Allura threw a pillow at him. 

“Lance, you are incapable of being silent at the worst of times. If they catch you they’ll send you to Father, most likely, and you know how that will go.” She said. 

“I feel insulted,” Lance said. “Truly.” 

“You’re being childish.” Allura threw a bundle of clothes at him from her bag. “Make your hair a different color. Make your marks go away for a time. Lots of servants have little or no marks anyway. When the guards see you, they’ll see a simple servant among hundreds, not the secondborn prince of the Altean empire.” 

Lance conceded the point that blending in would be a better idea than being a ninja. “Fine.” He huffed.

He concentrated on the look he wanted to have. No marks, first off. He went through a variety of hair colors, from bright red (definitely not) to indigo blue (too out there) to black (too dark for his complexion) to finally settling on a brown color that didn’t clash horribly with his skin. He considered changing his eye color, but decided not to, since no one could possibly recognize him from just his blue eyes. 

He looked painfully average. Perfect. 

“Allura isn’t stupid, Lance. Anyway, get out there, tiger. My job is done here. Hopefully you aren’t caught and turned in when you get out in the city!” Pidge said. The line went silent. 

Lance jogged over to the door, all carved wood and brass knobs. Old style, before the invention of self opening doors. He seemed to have to push it out. He braced himself against it. 

“Goodbye, castle. Hello, Outer Ring!” Lance said, and pushed out the doors into the city. 

\-------------

Lance had only ever been in the Royal district all his life, save for the time he got to go to Alkarion with his father for a treaty summit. He had been around seven at the time. He didn’t remember too much of it other than he had tried to hang off a chandelier like a monkey and had taken the light down with him. Thankfully, he didn’t get in trouble with the Alkari, they thought it had been hilarious. His father had been furious, though it was short lived. King Alfor was not the type to stay mad for long. 

Though he might be mad for longer if Lance was caught. But that was a thought for another time. 

It struck him how beautiful this part of the city was at night. The quintessence powered lights were dim, and no one was out this late. The night sky glittered above his head, galaxies and planets stitched onto the inky darkness into infinity. The two moons, Vuras and Jana, looked so big in the sky Lance felt like he could touch them. He foolishly stuck his hand out to the sky, pretending he was holding the twin moons in his hands. 

But he needed to get moving. According to Pidge’s train schedule, the last air train to the Outer Ring was set to leave at ten-thirty. He looked down at his watch. It was nine thirty right now, he had plenty of time. But it was most likely better to get to the station early than to be running hopelessly late. 

Lance walked the sidewalk slowly, measuring his steps. So much like a prince. He wasn’t allowed to run in public, it would detract from the royal image, apparently. But uwas dark. He was disguised. All of the people in their grand, magnificent houses on this block would just see some kid just booking it down the street. Not the crown prince. 

He found himself running. It was almost like flying. His feet pounded the pavement, leaving behind the castle and his life, just for a little while. His lungs took in the cool night air, and he was fast, he was faster than he thought he could be. What a glorious thing, running. What a glorious thing it could be when you have no rules. 

His breath came in short, painful gasps. His lungs ached from the strain. He didn’t run very far. He hadn’t run in so long, his body almost forgot how to. Almost.   
Freedom was intoxicating. Almost like a drug pumping through his veins, addictive and fiery and it made him feel so alive. So much more real and in the moment than his normal life.   
_______________  
He had heard that when you're upset, you're supposed to drink. That's what the net dramas told him, anyway. Apparently alcohol was supposed to make you less sad and angry.   
Lance was angry. Angry at the whole stupid universe. Angry at himself for believing what everyone had told him about their country.   
The Outer Ring was ravaged by war. Lance had always thought of the ongoing war with the Galra as some faraway happenstance, nothing to really think or worry about. But it was real, and it was here, so close he could smell it.   
Parts of the wall were crumbling apart. Buildings close to the wall were crushed by cannonballs and artillery. People picked around the rubble, salvaging whatever they could before another attack could come.   
There were people on the streets begging for food, money, medicine. One man Lance passed had no leg. A mother rocked a baby in her arms, her eyes hollow and darkened. Children danced with jump ropes and played with dolls in the streets, almost oblivious to the situation around them.  
He supposed that was probably the reason the people in the castle kept him there, isolated from the world. Why they didn't let him out unless it was in the Royal Ring. Why there was always someone there to block his sight of the Outer Walls.   
And why hasn't he asked any questions? Why didn't he get suspicious? Why didn't he try to get out sooner?   
No one recognized him. Even in his shock his disguise held firm. If they did Lance didn't know what he would do. Would they expect him to save them? Would they ridicule him for not doing anything?   
But there was nothing Lance could do. He held no political power. And so the only thing he could do was drink.  
___________________  
“Commander Sendak, sir!” Sendak looked up from his position on the deck. Lieutenant Axis stood behind him, his hand on his chest in the proper salute.   
“We have a visual on the Ismirian wall. What are your orders, sir?”   
It had been days since the fleet had deployed from the Galran headquarters. The orders were from the Emperor himself, and to fail would serve a death penalty.   
Under the cover of darkness, tonight the fleet would sneak up on the capitol city. And bomb the wall. Once the wall was down, they would invade the Outer Ring and kill off all resistance. The Alteans were weakened severely, and weren't expected to put up much of a fight.   
Sendak savored that victory. He could almost taste the blood.   
“When we get in position, fire at will until the wall crumbles. Victory or death!” Sendak ordered.   
“Vrepit Sa, Commander!” Axis saluted again.   
Sendak smiled. Victory or death, and he knew they would have what they wanted.  
____________________________________________  
The bar Lance found himself in was dingy and smelled slightly like soured milk. The stool was crickety and very, very worn from the countless asses that had once graced the wood. The counter was pocked with scratches and small chips, and the floor was for some reason covered in Uldimin nut shells. There were about three other people beside him at the counter, minus the bartender that only had one eye. The bartender in question was methodically scrubbing out glasses with a somewhat clean dishrag.   
The other people at the counter were all interesting enough to look at. One had a large scar across his nose, and a white fluff of hair at the top of an otherwise shaved head. The guy in question was knocking back a glass of amber liquid.   
Sitting beside the scarred man was someone with long black hair tied into a low ponytail. He was wearing a bright red jacket and something about him… Lance just couldn’t look away. It was something about the fluidity of his movements, the self assured look on his pale face, those violet eyes that seemed to be looking at him, even when he wasn’t. Something about that man in the red jacket struck Lance as beautiful.   
And there was one other person. A woman. She had long blonde hair tied into high, cascading braids down her face. She wore a blue top that barely concealed her cleavage. And she was winking at him.   
Before he knew it she was beside him, sidling up to his waist.   
“Hey there, handsome,” For a moment Lance’s brain couldn’t process a single thought. Her boobs were so close to his shoulder, and she was angling herself to reveal more of them. The only thought that could process was pretty lady. She smelled like wine. “My name’s Nyma. Let me buy you a drink. You look like you need one.”  
“Sure, pretty lady.” Lance flirted. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw the red jacketed man tense up, but he ignored it. There was a woman, hitting on him, and he wasn’t even looking like a prince. Why not take the drink? It seemed rational on his part.   
“What would you like then?” Nyma asked. “I could get you anything.”   
“Surprise me.” Lance said. “I like being surprised.”  
She giggled. He liked that laugh, though something was a little off about the whole exchange. He decided to ignore that little part in his brain telling him that this was a bad idea.   
“One glass of Moonberry wine, please.” Nyma ordered the bartender. When he finished pouring it, she took the glass and handed it to him.   
Lance didn’t notice that she had poured something in it.   
He took a sip. It was a nice, fruity flavor, sweet but not too sweet, with a bitter undertone to it. It was the first drink he had ever actually had in his life. Vadus, this was good.   
But something was wrong about it. His head felt like mush, even though he had only had a few sips. Is this what alcohol was supposed to do? He couldn’t remember any more. The room blurred and mushed together in his eyes. His head hurt. His body felt like lead. Noise sounded a million miles away.   
He didn’t think this was what alcohol was supposed to do, not this quickly. But where had this come from? Did she… put something in his drink?   
“Hey? Are you good, Lance?” Her voice sounded sugary sweet. “You don’t look so hot.”  
“No… no… I don’t feel so good.” His words slurred together and felt foreign in his mouth. What was wrong with him? Why did the room spin so much?   
“Oh, it must be the alcohol in you. I’ll take you outside for some fresh air.”  
“No, no… I don’t want to.” Lance slurred. He weakly tried to push her away. She put her arms around his shoulders and hoisted him out of the chair.   
“I don’t think you know what you’re saying, Your Highness. Mhm, we’re just going outside.”  
Terror coursed through his veins. How did she know who he was? He thought about the other people at the bar. He pleaded in his mind for help, he couldn’t even form words anymore. He could barely move. The world was so blurred and he was so dizzy, so dizzy he closed his eyes against it.   
He felt cool air wash over his face. And then a new voice cut through his head.   
“Found someone?” A man said.   
“Obviously, Rolo. This is going to be a good ransom. I saw him just sitting there, and I just had to get him a drink and he was out in five minutes.” Nyma said. Lance groaned, panicking but unable to express it. Was someone going to help him? Did no one care?   
He heard the door of the bar open. Lance couldn’t even open his eyes to see. Was it another captor?   
He felt the hands on him tense. “You shouldn’t be out here.” Who he supposed was Rolo said.   
“Why not?” A new voice. “I’m not allowed to leave the bar?”  
Did this new guy not even see him?  
“Move along,” Nyma’s voice said. “There’s nothing to see here.”   
“I think there’s everything to see here. You both have a nearly unconscious man in your hands, a getaway hover, and you, man with the ugly fighter pilot hat, have a syringe full of gods know what. What exactly do you plan to do with this man?” Said the voice.  
“Move along.” Nyma repeated. “It’s none of your business what we do. If you don’t, we may have to use force.”  
“I think it’s exactly my type of business.” said the voice. “Keith, now!”   
The arms dropped Lance on the ground with a scream. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs. Gravel dug into his body, and he felt something hot and wet on his face. He struggled to get up but could only move his finger. He still couldn’t open his eyes.   
He heard fighting. Something metal kept clanging near him. He heard the grunts of Nyma and Rolo trying to fight back. In a few moments everything went silent.   
“Are they dead?” That might have been Keith.   
“No, only unconscious. We have to move before someone comes this way.”   
“Got it.”   
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Lance gave a groan of alarm. His breathing came hard and fast.   
“Hey, hey! It’s okay, I’m one of the good guys. It’s okay, you’re safe now.” Keith said. The hand patted his shoulder a bit. “Can you talk?”   
Lance calmed down a little. He tried to say yes but it only came out in a low gurgle.   
“Alright. I’m going to get you up, okay? Umm.. two sounds for yes and one for no, got it?”   
Lance hummed a little in response.   
“I’m going to take that as a yes. I’m gonna pick you up. In three, two, one-”   
Lance felt his body being lifted off the ground. Hands supported his legs and wrapped around his shoulders.   
“You’re safe now. You’re okay.” Keith reassured. “We’ll get you somewhere safe.”  
“Keith, we have to go.” said the alien voice.   
“I know, Shiro. I’m, uh, coming.”   
Despite the fact that Lance had no idea who this guy was, he felt safe. He felt calm, actually. Lance wondered absentmindedly if this was the guy with the red jacket.   
A large boom filled his ears.   
He heard Keith swear. “Shit! An attack!”  
“We gotta get the prince somewhere safe. Come on!” Shiro shouted.   
Lance heard screaming. Another crash of an explosion. His people were being attacked, he had to help them!  
He squirmed in Keith’s arms, trying to get out.   
“No, no! Keep still!”   
With one final shove of his still-heavy body, Lance was out of Keith’s arms. And then he felt his head hit something, and the stars winked out in his head.


	3. Fire and Brimstone

“We need to get to the shelters, now!” Shiro screamed.   
Keith watched a fiery ball of light cascade from the outside of the wall, which then exploded with a deafening boom in the now fiery sky. All around him were the sounds of screams as shell after shell peppered the wall and nearby houses. People were running down the street in a blind panic, nearly trampling him as he struggled to pick the now-unconscious Prince Lance off the ground. Breathing burned his throat and lungs. His eyes watered from ash and smoke and hot, fat tears streamed down his face each time he blinked.   
It was too much. It didn’t matter how many attacks he went through, it was always too much to handle, too much to go through. He struggled for a moment to breathe through the pain, but the air was too acrid to breathe in deeply.   
Shiro dropped beside him, eyes full of worry and mouth in a hard set line. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion. Light from another explosion reflected on Shiro’s dirty face, highlighting his jaw and lighting his eyes up with orange for half a second. Shiro’s hands roughly grasped his shoulders.   
“I know that you’re scared. But you’ve done this before, and you can do this again. Push it all down until we’re actually somewhere you can let it out, alright?” He sounded like a general.   
Keith nodded and swallowed thickly. Commands, he was good at commands.   
It was like his brain was on autopilot. He found himself with the Prince in his arms again, now hoisting him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. His body buckled with the sudden weight but he did not fall.   
He found himself running.   
Running did not come easy to him with the added weight of the Prince on his back. Usually he could only sprint a few hundred meters at best, and now he was running to the base, a good mile away from their vantage point.   
By this point Keith was only focused on small things. Never the big picture, that would be too much. His mind isolated itself to only the basics of the situation. He picked his way around the rubble. He noticed burned down buildings and he heard the cries of too-late sirens echoing painfully close. He caught the snatches of faces. Tear streaked, dirt covered faces. Coughing in the ash of the firestorm. He noticed Shiro running far ahead of him, yelling into a communicator but not making a single sound.   
The weight on his back grew to be painfully acute. His muscles burned from the strength of trying to keep running.   
The entrance to the shelters were so close. Keith could focus on nothing but sound, nothing other than blasts of artillery and shrapnel and fire. Fire. Fire. Licking at his heels as he struggled to run, struggling to breath, struggled to see. Shiro was yelling something at him, but it was like he was on mute. Keith was deaf but to the sounds of the dying, he heard it all.   
Shiro was suddenly right beside him, pulling him roughly with him. He hadn't noticed he had stopped.   
The doors were closed. With good reason, but now they needed to get in. Keith pounded at the doors, mindful not to drop his heavy passenger. Shiro was radioing in, but he didn't seem to be getting anywhere. The sounds of the bombs were getting closer. Keith imagined shrapnel stabbing through his back. His body being burned until there was nothing but charred flesh.   
There were ships going over the wall now. Large, red beams blared onto the streets, catching everything in their path in an almost graceful arch of destruction. Rubble. Houses. People.   
“Shiro! Why aren't they opening the door?” Keith screamed. Panic bubbled in his chest, drowning out all sensation.   
“I don't know! It might be because of that tractor beam!” He said.   
Keith’s hair whipped around his face. His load was getting heavier by the second, and if they didn't get in the shelters, they and the crown prince would die in minutes. Air was toxic and Keith felt his lungs burning to get good air. Either the bombs would kill them, or the air would.   
“Did you tell them that we have the literal crown prince with us?” Keith shouted over the roar of the ships.   
Shiro blinked. “No.”   
“Then fucking do it! We're going to die out here!”   
“Calling into Station. Please, open the doors! We have the goddamn prince of Altea with us… No, I'm not lying. Radioing to Station Beta Seven. Hunk, commit treason.”   
The doors started opening with a sickening screech of unoiled gears. Only a few seconds now, only a few seconds-  
The back of his neck prickled. A low hum made its way through his spine. Everything seemed to be at a complete standstill.   
“Keith, dive!”   
He lunged for the door, holding tightly to his cargo. His body hit the floor with a loud thud. He felt the prince’s weight leave his body. For a moment he couldn’t process anything. Just noise and breathing and panic flooding every part of his body.   
The doors slowly creaked shut. From the slowly shutting opening he could see a purple light slamming into the ground. He had almost been taken. He had almost been prisoner. Keith exhaled, he hadn't known he was holding his breath.   
A low groan came from his side. On the ground lay the prince. His eyes were still closed, though his face was contorted in pain. Keith was surprised he had stayed out the whole time. Whatever those drugs were and that hit to the head must’ve been what did it.   
His muscles ached and his heartbeat was going a million miles a minute. But he was safe. He was alive.   
Keith would take any pain if it meant he was still breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for over 500 reads! I'm glad over 500 of you don't hate my work. I'll try to post like once or twice a week depending on how long the chapter's going to be. Be sure to leave a kudos! Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! This is my first AO3 fanfiction! I hope you like it enough to give a kudos!


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